


Taken For Granted

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel War, Angel Whump, Angels, Castiel Whump, Exhaustion, Hurt Castiel, Injured Castiel, Winged Castiel, Wingfic, Wings, collapse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2366234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set-mid Season 6.</p>
<p>Castiel is exhausted between fighting the civil war in Heaven, trying to find Purgatory for Crowley and helping the Winchesters. He's torn between Destiny, Duty, Loyalty and Service. Taken for granted, it's only a matter of time before he breaks.</p>
<p>Basically what happens when Dean and Sam drive the angel to the brink of exhaustion. Some secrets come to light concerning God and Cas' divine mission and plus, Balthazar turns out to be a great big brother after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taken For Granted

**Author's Note:**

> This is on Fanfiction.net under Alexia Blackbriar as well. But I thought I'd post it here.  
> This was actually my first ever SPN fanfiction. So enjoy!

The first time the Winchester brothers thought something was wrong with Castiel was during the middle of the night while they were driving for a job. Two demons, probably Crowley's, had leapt out in front of the Impala.

"CAS! GET YOUR FEATHERY BUTT DOWN HERE!" Dean bellowed as he wrestled wildly with a demon that was attempting desperately to kill him, rolling around on the empty road. He could see Sam in a similar situation with another demon. The demon-killing knife was by the front wheel of the Impala, which both boys had been yanked from.

The demon reached down to grab Dean's neck, to most probably strange him, but suddenly in a wingbeat the angel had appeared. Castiel grabbed the demon by its head and smote it quickly before driving his angel sword into the demon pinning down Sam. Both demons fell limp, dead.

Dean and Sam staggered to their feet, Sam grabbing the demon knife, looking around. But now it was just the two hunters and the angel. Dean was about to start shouting at the angel to being late answering their call, but then Castiel bent over and placed his hands on his knees, panting for breath, sword in hand.

"Cas, seriously! We almost had the crap beat out of us by those demons! Why the hell didn't you answer sooner?!" Dean growled, furious.

"My...apologies..." the angel heaved, not looking up from his desperate gasps for breath.

"You okay, man?" Sam asked, slightly concerned. Though he didn't have his soul that moment, he still cared for his brother and the angel somewhat. And Castiel didn't look that good.

"Yes, I will be fine," Castiel replied, finally looking up at them, ashen-faced. "My apologies, I was mid-battle and could not get here sooner."

"I don't frickin' care if you were busy ganking your brothers, Cas," Dean replied angrily. "We call, you come. That's how this works."

Castiel stared at him and that was when both brothers really noticed. The angel's eyes were sunken and exhausted; he was pale and his chest was rising and falling rapidly, as if he wasn't getting enough oxygen; his tan trench coat had several bloody stains on it and the rim was shredded and ripped beyond human repair. Sam was about to say something when there was a rush of wind and with a flutter of feathers the angel had vanished.

"Dean, you shouldn't have blown up at him like that," Sam told his brother. "He's killing his own brothers upstairs to keep us safe. Truth is, I think we're really starting to take Cas for granted."

Dean looked stricken for a moment before he huffed and gave an annoying smile, waving it away. "Nah, we ain't taking him for granted. Anyway, we've helped him a hell of a lot, the angel owes us." Sam didn't argue further.

The second time the Winchester brothers suspected that their resident angel wasn't doing that well was when both boys dropped in at Bobby's to talk about the Crowley problem. They were heading that way anyway, so they thought they could see how their surrogate father was doing.

"Well I ain't sure," Bobby said. He jabbed a finger at the map. "But all the crap those demons are talking about says that this warehouse is where Crowley's hiding out. 'Cept it's twelve states over and I ain't positive that they'll be there for long. Why doncha call that damn angel and get him to scout for us?"

So Dean called and called and called. On the fourth try he slammed his fist into the wall in frustration and cursed. "You'd think that after everything we've done for that dick he'd show up when -"

"Hello, Dean."

Dean, Sam and Bobby turned. Castiel had landed in the corner of the room and Sam reached out to catch him when the angel's balance slipped and he nearly toppled to the floor. He looked even worse that when they had last seen him - trench coat in tatters, pale-faced and panting, though this time Sam thought he could sense a trembling in the angel's right hand. The angel was obviously depleted and tired - and injured, because there was a stab-wound in his lower abdomen that was sluggishly oozing blood.

"What the heck happened to you?" Bobby questioned.

Once Sam thought the angel had regained balance, he stepped back. Castiel shook his head. Yes, his hand was definitely shaking. He gazed upon the three of them with exhausted blue eyes.

"Raphael. I was fighting his army when you called me," Castiel informed them. His hoarse voice was quieter than usual.

"You got hit?" Sam asked, and it was a stupid question. Stab-wound, duh.

"Yes," Castiel sighed. He gazed down at his abdomen solemnly.

"Does it hurt?" Sam questioned.

"Yes," Cas said, and he sounded surprised.

"I can get you some painkillers?" Sam offered.

The angel shook his head. "Human medicine does not affect my metabolism. Thank you for your offer though."

"Any other wounds we need to look at?" Bobby grunted, crossing his arms.

"My left wing is dislocated and it needs to be set. But I will heal, it is not of import."

"Uh, I think it is," Sam argued. "If you can't even land without falling over, then it's definitely of import. I can set your wing for you, if you like."

Castiel looked terrified at the thought of having Lucifer's vessel touching his wings and quickly answered, "No. It is nothing. Now, what do you need?"

Then Dean proceeded to shout and yell and whine about how Castiel did not answer their calls quick enough and that they obviously didn't matter to the angel. And Soulless Sam was worried, because Castiel would usually argue back about the civil war in Heaven and how he couldn't always answer, but this time the angel just stood there and took it silently. Bobby finally mentioned the warehouse where they suspected Crowley was hiding out and without a word Cas flew off, reappearing a few minutes later. He staggered from his flight once again and gripped the edge of the chair, trying to catch his breath, eyes screwed shut in pain. He flexed his left shoulder and winced.

"You good, man?" Dean questioned, looking at the angel.

"Yes, Dean," Castiel replied in a strained voice. "I am 'good'."

Sam and Bobby exchanged glances, but Dean got straight to it. "So? What did you find?" He asked impatiently.

Castiel's usually strong voice wavered slightly as he spoke. "It was not Crowley's hideout. It was simply a demon 'drop off point' as you would say. We are no closer to finding Crowley." Then he twitched and said, "I must go. My lieutenant is calling me. There has been another attack on the Room of Records by Raphael."

"Oh, by all means, flutter off," Dean said sarcastically.

And Castiel did so. But Sam and Bobby looked at the spot he had vanished, because although Cas had said he would be fine, both sincerely doubted it.

The third time was actually when the angel snapped. Dean and Sam were up at Bobby's again, calling for the angel that they had a lead on one of the heavenly weapons - the Brown Scapular - two small pieces of brown wool connected by string and worn over the shoulders. The angel hadn't showed so Dean had furiously stormed out of the place raving about how the angel never appreciated anything they did for him. Both brothers had gone off in search for the Scapular.

Bobby was sat in his study drinking a glass of strong whiskey when he heard a massive crash from outside in the salvage yard. Grabbing his knife and a gun, he hurried outside only to swear and drop both in shock.

It was Castiel. The angel was lying motionless in a smoking crushed mess of one of the cars. He sword was covered in blood and loose in his slack hand. His clothes were torn apart. Gruesome wounds covered the angel's body and he was literally drenched in blood, his skin as white as a sheet, clammy and sweating. It seemed impossible for the angel to be alive. Bloody tattered wings were spread out beneath him, twelve feet of broken raven feathers, bones twisted and snapped, the pink flesh oozing pus and stinking of infection. Bobby gagged at the sight and stumbled forwards, climbing up using the deflated wheels to try and wake the angel from his unconsciousness.

Balls! "Castiel! Castiel, you idgit! Wake up! Come on, feathers, open those eyes!" Bobby shouted, gently shaking Cas' shoulders trying not to aggravate his injuries.

The angel gave a low guttural groan of agony and his eyes cracked open, glazed with indescribable pain. His haggard breaths shook and sounded wet as Castiel struggled to breathe. He tried to sit up but ended up choking in pain as his broken wings jolted. Tears sprung to his azure eyes as he trembled in exhaustion.

"Bobby," the angel breathed, hoarse voice weak and barely audible.

"What the hell happened?!" Bobby questioned desperately. The angel turned away, eyelids fluttering. Bobby took Cas' head in his hands. "Cas? Stay with me, boy! Castiel, what happened?!"

"....Raph...ael...angels...war...."

"The angels did this to you? Cas, Cas, stay with me! You need to stay awake, boy!"

The angel let out a harsh sigh of exhaustion and his head lolled back, eyes slipping closed as he went limp. Bobby scrambled to check Castiel's pulse and found it was slow and weak. The angel turned his head restlessly and coughed violently. There was a thick red splatter on the twisted metal and a trickle of blood coming from Cas' slack mouth. Bobby swore. He then grabbed his phone and pressed speed dial.

"This is the voicemail of Dean Winchester. If you know who I am and it's an emergency or you're going to die, leave a message. If you don't know who the heck you're calling or why then you can piss off."

"Dammit, Dean!" Bobby snarled as soon as the tone sounded. "Get your ass back here! Cas crashed and he's dying, you idgit! I can see his bloody wings, feathers and all. He's puking up blood and his wings are broken. It's bad, real bad. Get yourself and Sam in that damn car and get here now!"

He snapped his phone shut and put it away. Now came the tricky part. He somehow had to move the angel from here to inside his house, without jolting any of his injuries or his wings. Bobby didn't see any other options so just pulled Castiel's torso up and looped one arm around him, moving one arm so it was slung over his shoulder. It would have been easier if the angel wasn't such a dead weight and for someone whose vessel was so skinny, Castiel weighed a ton. Bobby tried to make sure that the two large black appendages weren't dragging too heavily on the ground, but their sheer size and limpness made it impossible to keep them off the ground.

Just as he reached the porch, Castiel began whimpering softly and painfully, sagging pitifully against his side as he blinked into semi-consciousness. He managed to weakly turn his head or gaze at Bobby with tear-filled, exhausted bleary eyes that were dull and agonized.

"S'okay, feathers," Bobby assured the trembling man he supported as he manoeuvred them through the door. "I gotcha, Cas."

The angel whimpered again then came the faint whisper of, "Please don't hurt me."

Bobby paused, turning to Castiel in shock. "Boy, I ain't gonna hurt you. You're safe here. The boys'll be back soon and then we'll get you fixed up. We'll put up some of that angel warding and you'll be fine."

Holding the angel on his side, Bobby stripped him of his trench coat and dress shirt. He had been stabbed twice, once in the shoulder and also in his abdomen. The shoulder wound went straight through to his back and had probably hit one of his lungs on the way through, which explained the puking blood. Both wounds were leaking bright white light that made the hunter's eyes hurt. He suspected it was Grace. He could see that both wounds were slowly knitting back together, puckering skin and forming cells. Castiel was unconscious again, slumping against his side, so Bobby pulled out some alcohol and pulled off the cork, hesitating. Did angels get infections? Well, better to be safe than sorry.

He poured and the wounds hissed when they came in contact with the alcohol. Castiel remained unconscious and unresponsive. Bobby then managed to manoeuvre bandages tightly around both wounds to stop the flow of blood, wrapping them so they didn't come into contact with his wings. He wiped off copious amounts of blood from the angel's bare torso before pulling out a cot and gently moving the angel onto it, stomach first so his broken wings were spread out and there was no pressure on them. Castiel's breath came in harsh wet little pants yet his chest was barely moving.

"Now how the heck do I set damn angel wings?" Bobby muttered as he cleaned his hands of the angel's blood and began examining matted black feathers and splintered bone. "Well that ain't healthy," he murmured as he came to the infected flesh, grimacing.

Bobby glanced to the side to check that the angel was still unconscious then hurried outside to grab Castiel's angel blade. He disinfected it and washed off the blood, grimacing the whole time. Then he sat down on a chair next to the inflected wing and breathed deeply. He needed to cut off the infected flesh and then disinfect the wound before setting the bone otherwise Cas would have problems and never fly again.

"I'm so sorry for this, Cas," Bobby muttered, before glancing upwards. "God, I know you probably don't give a damn, but if you're listenin' or seein' this, then I'm sorry."

He gripped the angel blade then, swallowing, began cutting. The wings shook from pain and Castiel's unconscious face immediately contorted in agony. Bobby sliced through the rotten flesh and then, once it was gone and in a bucket below the chair, immediately poured another bottle of booze other the wound. Castiel screamed and every single lightbulb in the house shattered, the glass windows smashing from the force and power of the angel's true voice. His radio went static and Bobby could hear his EMF in the other room going insane before exploding in sparks. Eventually the screams faded into groans and then into small quiet sobs. Castiel finally went silent, heaving in exhaustion and from the blood-loss. Bobby checked his forehead. It was warm and the angel was running a fever. He laid a wet towel over it and pulled off Cas' shoes and socks, making sure he was reasonable comfortable and able to breath. At least now the angel's wounds were beginning to seal, healing slowly but surely. At least he wasn't going into shock.

Bobby quickly stood up and walked out, not wanting to see the angel like that. He placed the blood-stained clothes in the bucket with the rotten flesh and set it alight. The flames danced and consumed the blood and flesh. After ten minutes, it flickered and the fire died away, so Bobby went back inside to check on his patient.

"Why didn't we stop you, Cas?" Bobby asked himself as he stared down at the broken, wilted body below him. "You're wearing yourself thin, boy."

His phone rang. He picked up immediately after the second ring. "Dean?"

"No, it's Sam. We got your message. We're ten minutes away. How bad is it?"

Bobby glanced at Cas and answered, "Bad."

"We abandoned the hunt. Can you really see his wings?"

"Yeah. Big, black, feathers and bone. I had to cut off some infected flesh. When you get here I'll need your help setting the broken bones."

"This is all our fault, isn't it? We've been exhausting him for the last few weeks, making him help us, tire himself out and then return to battle without rest. We've been taking him for granted."

Bobby grunted. "And Cas is payin' the price. I saw that he was tired and injured but I never thought it would get this bad. Sam, he's practically dying. I don't know what else I can do."

"We'll be there soon."

Bobby set down his phone and waited. When he heard the crunch of gravel as the Impala rolled in, he jumped up and was there to open the door when Dean and Sam ran up to the house looking frenzied, guilty and extremely worried. Bobby stepped sideways to along both boys through and heard choked gasps and a sob as the Winchester brothers caught side of the bloody broken angel on the cot.

"Cas..." Dean whispered, voice strained and horrified. "Holy mother of..."

"I know," Bobby grimaced. "Sam, com'ere', I need you to take a look at these breaks."

The younger Winchester brother slowly moved forwards towards the angel numbly, looking shocked and eyes filled with horror. He stood above the broken wings looking down at them, swallowing, stunned silent. Bobby impatiently took one of Sam's hands and pressed it onto the black feathers. Sam's eyes widened and he turned back to Dean, nodding that it was real and solid under his fingertips. This only made Dean bite his lip harder and placed one hand over his face, shaking slightly.

"I'll..." Sam gulped before he gathered his courage and said, "I'll examine his wings. I'll need Dean to look up some bird care online. I can set the bone but I have no idea what to do after that - whether we should bandage them and splint or not."

Dean would have usually made some sort of snide comment or at least snorted at the 'bird care' but he just nodded and pulled out Sam's laptop, clicking the search bar. Bobby watched as Sam gently ran his hands over the splintered wing bones and as he stroked down the primary feathers as they rose defensively. Castiel writhed weakly beneath him, whimpering but still unconscious and unable to return to the world of the living due the to excessive amounts of pain on his vessel's nerve endings.

Sam came to the top joint in the left wing and as he spread his hands over it, he frowned. "This is old," he said, confused. "This joint's loose, it's been dislocated for a while now -" He cut off with a gasp of horror, eyes snapping upwards to meet Bobby's own. "Oh god... I didn't even..."

"Sammy? What is it?" Dean asked cautiously, still trying to take his eyes off of Castiel. He could cope with blood and guts, but he could not stand the sight of the angel so vulnerable.

Sam swallowed. "Two weeks ago..." He said slowly. "We called Cas to check that warehouse for us to see if Crowley was there. He - he told us his left wing was dislocated but refused our help, saying it would heal... This here -" He ran his fingers over the joint again. "Is the dislocated joint. He hasn't set it or even tried to. It's been dislocated for two weeks. It must be agony for him to fly."

Dean swallowed down the bile in his throat and said hoarsely, "This web page says that bird wings need to have splints to keep the bones aligned but also bandages if there is more than one break." He chuckled humourlessly before whispering, "I'm guessin' we're gonna need a hell of a lot of bandages."

Sam nodded. "He's broken his right wing in three places, his left in two but that's dislocated as well. "

Bobby grunted. "At least we know his Grace is still somewhat functional - the wound in his shoulder has almost healed up and his abdomen is a scar." He tapped the scar gently, but there was no response. "Damn sacrificial idgit."

"What do we do?" Dean asked, looking concerned and slightly nauseous.

"Call another angel?" Sam suggested.

"Those damn angels did this to 'im," Bobby growled. "And I ain't letting them anywhere near 'im."

"We may not have another choice, Bobby," Sam said, sounding defeated. "Anyway, there must be some angels willing to help Cas. He's got an army, right? An army's gotta have healers and stuff."

"So we wait for a heavenly mojo doctor to turn up and whammie Cas back to his nerdy winged self?" Dean snarled. "Dude, he doesn't have that long! He needs medical attention like now."

Sam glanced between his brother and his adoptive father before gazing back down at the prone broken form below him. After a moment, he looked up and inferred, "We could always summon Balthazar."

"That smarmy dick," Dean growled under his breath.

"I take it you boys ain't on the best terms with this Balthazar," Bobby questioned, narrowing his eyes at both brothers.

"We didn't exactly part ways that well," Sam said dryly. "That considered we did try to fry him in holy oil." He turned and stared sadly down at the unconscious injured bleeding angel below him. "But Cas says he's a friend. They stood for each other in Heaven. I'm betting Balthazar would be willing and able to help."

"Whose making the call?" Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms.

Sam turned and gazed expectantly at Dean. Dean glared at him. Sam looked pointedly down at Cas. Dean grimaced and looked upwards. Sam rolled his eyes. Dean sighed and relented.

"Dear Balthazar. Hi, Dean Winchester here. Know we didn't exactly part on good terms, but we need help. I pray to thee's feathery butt to get his bastard self down here pronto to save your brother Castiel's life." He waited a moment for some sort of sign or a rush of wings and feathers. There was nothing and he swore before shouting, "Come on. He needs help. He's dying here, Balthy."

"I haven't been called that in decades," an unpleasantly British voice commented slyly from the side of the room. "Winchesters. Always a pleasure. What have Moose and Squirrel messed up now?"

All three hunters whipped around, loaded guns raised, but Dean held his hand out to stop them shooting as he narrowed his eyes at the blonde-haired smirking man leaning against the wall.

"Balthazar. Didn't think you'd show," Sam greeted him, sounding slightly relieved.

"Well, when I heard your big brother begging so sweetly for my help, I couldn't resist the call," Balthazar snarked. Then his expression flashed to one of shock and horror. He seemed to have spotted his little brother. "Cassy?"

The younger angel tossed his head weakly on the bed, unconsciously leaning towards the other angel's presence. Balthazar completely ignored the three hunters and instead knelt down next to his brother, running careful gentle hands over broken matted raven feathers and mangled flesh. Cas twisted and moaned in his passed out state, flinching away from the hands at first before he settled in his brother's Grace.

"Castiel?" Balthazar called to him firmly. "Cassy, wake up! Cas!" Now his voice was breaking slightly, sounding desperate and terrified. He turned to Dean, furious. "Who did this to him?"

"Can only presume another angel," Bobby grunted, crossing his arms. "Any idea why?"

"Well it's not like he's challenged one of the most powerful archangels and an army three times bigger than his own," Balthazar said sarcastically. He growled them shouted, "He practically signed his own death warrant by siding with you two against the Apocalypse. Heaven still thinks of him as Fallen and as the Betrayer. Why do you think they tried to tear him to shreds?" He was yelling now, the room shaking slightly with his escaping power. "My little brother is outnumbered, exhausted and fighting a war he can't win! And I won't even get started on Dad -"

"Dad?" Dean interrupted sharply. "As in God?"

"Who else, numbskull?" Balthazar snarled. "Cassy gets himself blown up by Luci, stops the Apocalypse and then Dad has to go and resurrect him and give him an 'important holy mission' that he can't even -" Then he suddenly stopped, his face pale. "I wasn't meant to tell you that. Forget I said that."

Then Dean dropped a lit match on the floor and a small circle of flames burst into life around the blonde angel, making him roll his eyes and mutter about déjà vu. Sam quickly crossed the room and sat down next to their deathly injured friend, ensuring he was not near the flames directly.

"When the hell did you have time to set that up?" Bobby growled.

"There're rings all over the house. I prepared," Dean answered bluntly.

"Holy fire? Again? You'd think you'd try something a little more creative this time, boys," Balthazar said, raising an eyebrow.

"Now here's what's gonna happen," Dean growled. "You are gonna heal Cas, and then you are gonna answer any damn question we ask you. Or so help me I will burn your ass and I'll be having myself some deep-fried angel wings."

"Look, it's not that easy," Balthazar informed him. "I can heal his vessel, sure, but I'm pretty sure that I can't do anything about his wings or Grace. Or not much, anyway."

"Why not?" Bobby demanded.

"Because, Cassy is a higher rank than me," Bathazar told them exasperatedly. "Angels of a certain rank can heal anybody below and equal to them. However, they can't heal anybody above their own rank. At the moment, Cassy here is one of the most powerful Seraphs in Heaven. I'm hardly even a soldier."

"But you'll be able to help him?" Dean questioned.

Balthazar shrugged helplessly. "Possibly?"

Dean hesitated, then pointed at the angel and snarled at him, "I'm trusting you here and letting you go. Betray that trust and flap off without helping and the next time we see you I won't hesitate to rip your feathers out."

Balthazar flinched at the mention of feathers but then smiled, and it was a genuine smile, not some fake smirk. Dean glanced at his brother and Bobby before wetting a flannel until it was soaking and dropping it only the flames, breaking the circle and causing it to collapse. Balthazar stepped out of the circle under the brothers' close scrutiny and when the angel made no move to fly off, they relaxed slightly and allowed him access to the trembling whimpering bloody angel that was their under appreciated ally.

As Balthazar laid a hand on Castiel's chest, the younger angel stifled a pained gasp and his eyes shot open, bright cerulean blue but blood-shot and exhausted. He instantly relaxed on seeing his brother above him.

"Hey, Cassy," Balthazar said softly. "I thought I said no fighting with the family. Leave the fighting to the other dick angels, okay?"

"Balthazar," Cas breathed quietly, reaching over painfully to weakly grasp at his brother's hand. 

The Winchester brothers glanced at each other and motioned to Bobby that they should all sit down and wait and watch silently. This seemed like a private moment between Castiel and Balthazar, and they weren't to interrupt.

"I'm going to try and heal you," Balthazar informed his brother. "No guarantees this will work though. I'll need you to focus your Grace."

Tears leapt to Castiel's eyes as he whimpered as a whisper, "I can't."

"Yes you can," Balthazar said stubbornly, his eyes flashing. "Remember when you were a fledgling? You were learning to fly and Gabe took his eyes off you for two seconds to flirt with the messengers and you fell and broke your wing. You were able to focus your Grace then, so why not now?"

The younger angel grunted and screwed his eyes shut in pain as his broken wings shifted on the bed to allow Balthazar to press his hands into the raven pinions. Balthazar quickly set the dislocated wing joint. There was a muffled squeak and Castiel's arm leapt up or clutch at Dean's hand tightly, shocking the Hunter. He debated on pulling away, but seeing Cas' laboured breathing made his heart clench, so he drew up a chair and sat beside the angel, holding his hand as Balthazar began pouring his Grace through Castiel's. There was crackling like a fire licking at tinder as the bones snapped back into place. After five minutes of a weird light show that made the hunters' eyes ache and burn slightly, Balthazar took his hand off of his brother's chest.

Dean made an angry move towards him. There was hardly any difference to Cas, except maybe a few bruises and cuts healing up and his ashen cheeks gaining a little colour. But as he made to punch the older angel, Balthazar held his hands up weakly to try and stop him and made an exhausted noise before stumbling backwards slightly. If Sam hasn't been behind him to support him, the British angel would have most probably collapsed to the floor.

"Whoa, dude, you okay?" Sam asked worriedly, shaking him slightly as Balthazar's half-lidded eyes blinked at him.

After a moment, the angel replied, "Yes. That...took a lot out of me. There's a lot of damage...to his Grace. I'm not powerful enough to heal him..." Sam would have accused him of lying if the angel hadn't appeared like he was about to pass out.

"We had a deal," Dean growled, striding forwards menacingly.

"Man, ease up," Sam scowled at his brother. "Look at him, he's fried."

"Oh...something's happening..." Balthazar murmured confusedly. "I think I'm experiencing what humans call 'collapsing'." Then he slipped down onto the floor, vessel going limp; however he was still conscious and his eyes blinked.

Sam ducked to catch him under the arms. He shot his brother a glare and Dean gazed back at him helplessly, turning back around to settle down next to his unconscious but improved trench coated angel. Bobby got on Sam's other side so they could drag the older angel onto the sofa and dump him there. Sam gazed down at him for a moment and their eyes met. Balthazar turned away and Sam scowled before grabbing a blanket and slinging it over him.

"Aw, didn't know you cared, Sammy," Dean teased him.

"Shut up, jerk. He just gave up all his energy to save his little brother. I think we can offer him some credit."

"Now you tell us about this God mission," Dean ordered Balthazar, standing above him with his arms crossed. "What's it got to do with Cas?"

"God mission? What God mission?" Balthazar mumbled, burying his head into some of the throw pillows to avoid meeting Dean's eyes. It was obvious he was lying.

"Don't think I won't burn your wings off, because I will," Dean snarled, snatching up a vase of holy oil and flicking open his lighter.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. "Stop it! He's exhausted, just be patient."

"I have been patient enough to be a damn Saint!"

"Dean," Bobby growled in his warning voice. Then he said in a more urgent voice, "Dean!", before pointing at Balthazar.

"I don't know anything about a God mission," Balthazar was mumbling deliriously, tossing on the sofa. "I don't know anything, Raphael. I don't know anything..."

Dean stared for a moment before slamming the vase and his lighter down on the desk, striding away back to the injured Castiel while muttering under his breath, "Friggin' angels always so messed up..."

Sam shot him an angry look before gazing back down at Balthazar and reassuring him, "S'okay, Balthazar, Raphael can't get you here. You and Cas are safe."

"How's Cassy?" Balthazar questioned, voice slurred slightly.

"Better. You did good, man. Look, Dean's just worried. You don't have to tell us about the God mission thing. We just wanted to know because you said it concerned Cas and he's like family to us."

Balthazar gazed at him before scoffing, "You bastards. Trying to guilt trip me into telling you?" Though he was exhausted, he looked angry enough to smite him.

"What? No!" Sam said hurriedly, stepping back to mope fully avoid a possible smiting. "We just -"

"Ya said it ya self," Bobby told him. "Poor kid's exhausted at the moment. Just wanted to know if we could help in any way. Not like Feathers'll be going anywhere any time soon anyway."

Balthazar huffed from the sofa. "You know, for a bunch of bumbling imbeciles you have quite a sense of logic." He cast his eyes sideways towards his fallen brother before sighing. "Fine. I'll see what I can come up with that won't have Cassy kicking up a fuss once he's back on top." He turned to Bobby, raising an eyebrow. "Could really do with something strong though."

"Don't push your luck, idgit," Bobby growled.

"Wouldn't dream of it, old man."

Bobby snorted. "I can see why the boys don't like ya."

"Hmm. I'm so beautifully loveable, aren't I?" The angel said sarcastically, before wincing and curling up more under the blanket. "Now don't you monkeys have something better to do than irritate me? You make me want to smite myself."

"At least we're not Celine Dion," Sam joked.

"That's crossing a line," Balthazar muttered, turning his back to the younger Winchester and settling down onto the couch further.

Sam sighed and motioned for Bobby to follow, and they finally left the older angel in peace. They found Dean nursing some thick golden whiskey while sitting in a chair next to his angel. Bobby poured himself a glass and handed one to Sam.

"His wings they're, uh," Dean made motions with his hands, "Mojoing themselves better, kinda."

"Mojoing themselves better?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "Let's have a look."

The stretched out raven wings were indeed improving somewhat. The bald patches where feathers had been torn out had soft down covering them, and the bones had snapped back into their correct places and seemed to be set firmly. Balthazar must have used some healing mojo, because the thick blood that had covered the feathers had vanished, and the exposed flesh now had thin fresh layers of healed black skin over the top of them. There was no sign of infection.

"Huh. Does look better," Sam mused. "Someone'll need to sit with him tonight."

"I'll do it," Dean said immediately.

"Dean..."

"What?" Dean snapped. "WHAT?"

Sam looked sympathetic. "I know you blame yourself for this, but it's not just your fault. We're all to blame."

"We have to accept there's nothin' more we can do, boy," Bobby said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Nothing more we can do?" Dean said angrily and incredulously. "We could have listened to him! Helped him out in this damn holy war, ganked some dicks, found some of those weapons. Instead we did nothing. We used him like a tool."

"And you don't let your tools get rusty," Sam finished in a murmur. "And that's exactly what we did. We called Cas when we needed help but never considered that the one who needed the most help out of all of us was actually him."

"He gave and gave and kept on givin' even when he didn't have anything more to give." Dean sounded broken. "And he kept on coming and helping and damn, he kept on hinting that he needed help -"

Sam's face transformed into one of shock and horror. "Oh...crap..."

"Sam?" Bobby demanded.

"Before... I had my soul back... I was here, right? And Cas was with us. I get the feeling.... that I said some stuff to him... He said stuff about the war and... I think..." He inhaled sharply and dragged one hand through his hair. "Crap, I think I threatened to kill him if he didn't help us."

"Sam, that wasn't you, okay?" Dean told him, placing a hand on his brother' shoulder and shaking it insistently. "That wasn't you."

"But it was still my body, which meant he thought it was me. And that was before you guys knew I was soulless." Sam looked like he was holding back his anguish. "He must have felt betrayed. He gave everything for us and then I went and threatened him and forced him to give more. Crap. He must have hated me."

"Don't you dare think like that, Sammy," Dean growled. "Don't you dare pin this on you. It was all of us. Whether we like it or not, this is our problem now. It's our job to get Cas back on his feet and mojo up and running."

"That could take months, Dean," Bobby said quietly. "He ain't got the spare mojo and with Raphael's goons out ta' get 'im... We need to look at this from all angles."

"The damage to his wings is extensive but should heal," Sam said, looking them over once again. "He'll be able to fly again."

"Yeah, 'cos it's not the same if we don't have feathered dicks zapping about the place," Dean said sarcastically, before grimacing. "Not that Cas is part of that group. Dammit, I really end to learn when to shut up."

"We noticed," Sam told him shortly.

"You know it really is difficult to pass out with you three guilt-tripping each other," the blond angel snarked, entering the room with a blanket around his shoulders. "Would it kill you to shut up for once? Oh, right, you're the Winchesters... Shutting up wasn't written into your genetic data. Though I'm pretty sure douchebag was."

"You know, for a dick, you sound remarkably a lot like Crowley," Dean smirked.

"Please. Your efforts to insult me are appreciated, but comparing angels to demons is low, even for you, Winchester."

Bobby shrugged. "I dunno, I can see where he's comin' from."

"Thank you, Singer," Balthazar scowled. "I'll be sure to enter that into your file in Heaven's archives. 'Says that awesomely BAMF angels are like the King of Hell'. I'm sure that'll get you high up in the ranks."

"You're both British," Sam added, then quickly changed the subject, coughing. "So, er, anything on the God mission thing?"

"Yes, actually," Balthazar said, leaning on the doorway. "The only way I'd be able to bypass Cassy's orders would be for you to either threaten to kill him or for you to trap me in a ring of holy fire and interrogate me."

"I'll go get the holy oil," Dean shouted immediately.

"You come anywhere near me with a lighter and I'll smite you, Winchester," Balthazar snarled, his eyes flashing angrily.

"Okay, so, um..." Sam squinted, in thought, before saying flatly, "Tell us all about this God mission or we'll kill Cas."

"Wow. That really had me shaking in terror," Balthazar snorted. He motioned for them all to sit down and conjured himself some thick golden alcohol. "Well I guess I'll start when Lucifer was defeated."

"Take your time," Sam told him. "But, er, quickly please. We don't have all night."

Balthazar raised an eyebrow, but continued, "I'm guessing Cassy never told you about Dad's little visit after his vacation?" At the hunter's shocked faces, he shook his head. "What? No? I guessed as much. Our dear old beloved Father gave Castiel a message after he was bought back to life after being exploded."

"You know about that?" Dean interrupted, looking slightly guilty.

"He's my little brother," Balthazar said slowly, as if that explained everything. "Anyway. After Michael and Lucifer's show down and Cassy was up'n'at'um again, Dad summoned Cas to the Garden and they talked a bit. 'I'm so proud of you', blah blah blah, 'My little fledgling's grown up', and all that crap. Then he got onto the important stuff. You see, Dad still wasn't done with his vacation. He still fancied lying on beaches with cocktails and sinning his nights away with women and booze. So, he told my dear little brother to take charge, become the new sheriff upstairs in Michael's stead."

Sam looked stunned. "So you're saying that Cas became God?"

Balthazar rolled his eyes. "Yes, and I'm a magical rainbow unicorn. No, Cas didn't become God. He became Heaven's new General. Or, so Dad wanted. It never actually happened. Cassy returned home and a big group of angels welcomed him back and said he was Chosen and joined him, but Raphael wasn't happy. He always was a complete pushover, if I do say so myself. Quite the traditionalist, a tree trunk up his ass."

"And the civil war started," Dean finished, sounding slightly broken. "Damn, I never even - he's really needed help, hasn't he?"

"Uh, duh," Balthazar scoffed. "Raphael is a bloody Archangel. Cassy at the most is a Higher Seraph. At the moment we're severely outnumbered and outgunned. Those heavenly weapons were our only hope of winning the war."

"But didn't you have the weapons?" Sam questioned, frowning.

"Not all of them. Four or five of the worthwhile ones, yes, but not any catapults or bazookas. Hate to tell you this boys, but we're losing the war, and there's no way we can afford not to win."

"And God? What about him?" Bobby interrupted. "I mean, doesn't he care 'bout all this? His kids are nuking it up, upstairs. And he's got nothin'?"

Balthazar exhaled. "Afraid so. Cassy is the only angel to have heard from him in centuries. His last orders were to give our undying devotion to humanity and then zip. Nada. Complete silence from that end. Complete free will for the angels. Half of the kids upstairs don't even know what free will is. They need to have a leader. Which was what Cassy was supposed to be."

"Damn. Heaven is seriously messed up," Dean choked.

"Heaven is notoriously clean and tidy," came a strangled, garbled reply from below them. "Our Grace refreshes each soul's faction and everything is ordered correctly."

The three hunters whipped around while the blond angel smiled gently down at the younger dark-haired angel. Castiel glared up at his older brother for a moment with bleary blue eyes before his gaze softened and he attempted to smile back weakly. Balthazar ran one hand down Cas's right wing in an attempt to soothe him and the ruffled feathers puffed up to provide him with more warmth.

"Hey, Cas. Hey, buddy," Dean said quietly, with a small grin, sitting down next to him. "How you feelin'?"

Cas hesitated for a moment, shifting minutely, before answering weakly, "Sore. My wings hurt."

"Yeah. Being injured sucks," Dean chuckled.

"I can't feel my vessel's legs," Cas said, trying to look down but stopping when it became painful.

Sam and Bobby exchanged horrified looks and Dean looked like he was about to be sick, but Balthazar just gave a soft short laugh and ruffled his brother's hair.

"Grace anesthesia," he explained. "Should wear off in an hour or two. Cassy, who did this to you?"

"Jophiel and Seraniel," Castiel responded tiredly, his feathers twitching. "I attempted to get into the Armoury."

Balthazar looked alarmed. "That's deep into Raphael's territory! What were you doing -"

"I heard rumours that he managed to procure Gabriel's Horn of Truth. I needed to see if they were true. Jophiel struck me from behind and Seraniel from above. It was unexpected and I didn't summon my blade fast enough. I fled. I apologise, brother, I did not mean to worry you."

Balthazar's expression softened. "I was worried," he said quietly. "You're my little brother." He laid a hand on top of Castiel's.

Dean growled like a feral animal and Balthazar pulled his hand away. Dean possessively shifted closer to Cas and glared at the blond angel. Balthazar rolled his eyes and stood.

"I will send Phounebiel to oversee your recovery."

"Pheobe what now?" Dean spluttered.

"Phounebiel," Castiel corrected. "She is my army's lead healer. She thwarts disease and aids in curing the ill."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Malaria? AIDs? TB?"

"She's been out of action for a long time," Balthazar explained, through he sounded annoyed. "She is a very nice angel, so if I hear a word about you Winchesters insulting her, I will not hesitate to fly down here and burn your eyes out."

"And I would let him," Cas added weakly.

"Fine, we'll be nice to the angel," Dean agreed, rolling her eyes. "She'll make you better, yeah Cas?"

"She will aid me in every way possible."

"Then she's welcome. But we ain't calling her Fo-un-eb-ee-el," Dean said slowly, pronouncing the syllables. "If she's stayin' here, she's Pheobe. Much easier."

"You are giving her a nickname," Cas realised. "Like you gave me."

"And me," Balthazar smirked. "Apparently I'm Balthy now."

"I will torch your ass," Dean hissed at the blond angel.

"Well, it was nice seeing you boys again," Balthazar said, flapping out his invisible wings. "Singer, nice to meet you. Though you really should stock up on some good quality liqueur. Your stuff currently is just ghastly." Then with a rustle of feathers, Balthazar was gone.

"Finally! I thought he'd never leave," Dean laughed. Then he turned back to Cas and smoothed down the blanket on top of him. "You okay? How's the pain?"

Cas shifted on the cot, wincing, before he decided, "Manageable." Then he admitted a minute later, "It hurts to move."

"I'm sure Bobby's got some morphine or something around here," Sam offered. "We can go get some?"

Seeing how Cas was still struggling to breathe properly due to his aching shoulder and wings, Dean nodded. "I think that would be best."

Sam and Bobby slunk off to find some painkillers while the injured angel was left with the Hunter. There was an awkward silence for a moment in which Dean shifted his chair so he could face Cas, but his spread out wings got in the way so he can to move around them without jolting the set broken bones.

"Dean..." Castiel began, sounding fatigued. "Thank you for your help. I know you consider me a liability but I -"

"A liability? You think we consider you a frickin' liability?" Dean interrupted, furious. "Don't you dare say that, Cas. Not to us. Not to me, the asshole you pulled out of Hell, or Sam, who dealt with the demon blood crap, or even Bobby, whose drunk six days out of seven, and whose to say I can blame him. You are not a liability. You make us better. You make us stronger."

"I...see..." Cas said softly. "You consider me an asset."

"Don't talk about yourself like that, man, like your just a weapon or tool somebody can use in a war. And I regret what we made you do with the whole Lucifer thing," Dean told him. "It was our fault you Fell, and you can't convince us otherwise, and we've been treating you like crap lately when you've really needed our help with this civil war. We should have been there to support you, not hit you down. And we can't ever say you didn't come for help, because you did. You tried to ask us, but instead we threw it back in your face and blamed you for Sammy losing his soul down in the cage. You being injured like this is our fault. Look. What I'm really trying to say, man, is that I'm sorry about how we took you for granted. You don't deserve that, and you deserve better than us. Thank God we have you, literally."

"Is your heart to heart over yet?" asked a suddenly appearing brunette sharp-faced woman. "Because if it's all the same to you, I would like to examine my brother for his injuries now."

"Phounebiel," Castiel sighed, relieved.

Dean stood and looked the new angel up and down. She was wearing a nurse's uniform and had the same piercing blue eyes as Cas. "This is Pheobe? Huh. Well, doctor angel medicine woman, do the honours."

Phounebiel narrowed her eyes at the older Winchester. "So this is Dean Winchester. I have heard a lot about you from Balthazar. You are a Hunter and the one who constantly interrupts our strategy meetings by praying to Castiel for unncessary aid. I have also been told you have an appalling sense of humour."

Dean gave a massively painful fake smile. "Yeah, that would be me. Remind me to keep the holy oil out for Balthazar when he next pops by. We have unfinished business concerning rings of fire and deep fryers."

"Dean," Castiel scolded, though it was light.

Sam walked in again holding a vial of clear liquid, the morphine, and Bobby entered with a syringe. Sam shot a curious look towards the female angel but didn't say anything. Dean hovered while 'Pheobe' checked the set wing bones and the wounds, while her right hand glowed slightly as she passed it over Cas' chest. Castiel was silent through the examination.

"You are fine," Pheobe finally said, pulling away. "Just simple recovery of rest and Grace inactivity. We can have you transferred to one of the Healing Wings in Heaven if you wish."

"No," Castiel quickly replied. "I will remain here on Earth."

"I cannot say I blame you. After Raphael's attack on the Western Gates, we had many casualties. Our Healing Wings are full of angels already. I presume you will we staying in this residence."

"Yeah," Bobby replied for him.

Castiel looked surprised for a moment, but then addressed Phounebiel. "You may return to your post. I will summon you if I need your aid."

Phounebiel bowed shortly before vanishing in a flurry of feathers.

"I do not wish to inconvenience you," Cas said to Bobby. "I can move."

"Nah, you're pratically family," Bobby replied. "And God knows what the boys would do without you to save their asses."

"They would probably have their throats torn out by vampires, or dismembered by demons," Castiel responded, and he was completely serious. "Er, Bobby, I apologise, I swear I shall replace the alcohol Balthazar took from you."

"Balls!" Bobby yelled, running off to check his cupboards for the most probably missing liqueur.

"Balthazar steals booze?" Dean smirked. Then his face fell. "Crap, the beer!" He sprinted off outside in the direction of the Impala.

Cas turned to Sam. "Samuel, I apologise for your laptop. I will -"

"My laptop?" Sam practically squeaked. "What did Balthazar do to my -!" He vanished around the corner, falling over his own feet as he rushed to check on his beloved laptop.

Castiel sighed and lay back, shifting his injured wings and giving a small smile. Team Free Will. Everything was finally alright again.

"I WILL KILL THAT BLOND NIGHTMARE!"

Ah. Apart from the fact that Dean now wanted to murder his older brother. Well, no matter. Castiel would deal with that later after he yelled at Crowley for attacking the boys again and snuck back into Raphael's Armoury. He wasn't a normal angel after all.

Perhaps the Winchesters were rubbing off on him too much. Castiel decided he didn't mind.


End file.
